Island Noire: Dead at Dawn
by Nyx Feral-child
Summary: Strange things happen on a strange island, especially when a strange fedora is worn. A Vice Fanfiction.
1. Intro

**Island Noire: Death at Dawn**

 **A Vice Fanfic**

* * *

 _Off one island and onto another._ Vice thought as he secured a wood wall to its foundation.

He had left The Island. Things were starting to become too much for any one person to handle. So, as soon as The Storm hit, he had been on his boat, sailing away. The Storm had been a strong one -stronger than any Storm he could remember- and it had taken him all the way to another island in just a day.

The natives called this island: Valhalla and it was very different from The Island. Valhalla was bigger, the rivers and oceans were clearer, the mountains were taller -one even floated- and the people were more inventive. The natives could build towers with circular spires, curved stairs of copper, industrial style stills to make more beer, and they could make an array of utensils. They could even use a single tree to carve a proper bar counter, and had done so for the island's pub.

Even the way the islanders wore their hair was different. They didn't keep their hair in the short, parted way the way he had always seen. Instead, they had all manners of hairstyles. From short, to long, to extremely long, they had it all. Vice, however, had stubbornly stuck to his cropped hair and continued to wear his navy and white aviator cap. The mere thought of growing out his hair and wearing a different hat made him shake his head.

Just as Vice secured another wall, a bush - just a little ways away - started to shake. Vice looked at the bush and the shaking stopped. He blinked and stared at the bush before shrugging and going back to work. As he prepared the next wall, the bush shook again.

With a frustrated sigh, Vice secured the wall and looked at the offending shrub.

"Hello?!" He called out to it.

The bush's shaking stopped a moment before replying to him with a short shake.

Vice looked at the bush quizzically. "Um...would you like to come out from that shrub?"

The bush gave a little shake.

"Is that a yes?"

Another little shake.

"...Is that a no?"

A long shake.

"I can see this being the start of an interesting and meaningful relationship." Vice sighed, half serious.

The bush gave an offended shake -which looked very much like a "yes" shake, but with more of a twisting motion, like a saber cat shaking its ruff.

"Did you...hear me?"

A long shake.

"Oh...um...well then," Vice coughed. "Please forgive my rudeness. Would a cup of tea perhaps make amends?"

The bush shook enthusiastically.

Thoroughly weirded out, Vice hastily set his cooking pot over the small fire pit he had built upon starting construction, and quickly made a small pot of tea.

"I hope you don't mind chamomile. It would seem that I lost all my other tea bags during my trip here." Vice said, slowly approaching the bush.

The bush gave no response.

"Hello?"

Still no response.

Vice stopped and waited a moment before calling out again. "I made the tea...I was hoping to continue our chat, Mr...Shrub."

To his disappointment, the bush remained motionless.

Vice rubbed his eyes and stared up at the sky. "First I lose all my tea bags and now I'm imagining things." He walked back to his unfinished house, sat down, and raised the cup to his lips. "Well, no point in letting good tea go to waste."

Two sips in, the bush started to tremble. Vice jumped to his feet, spilling tea everywhere, and marched towards the bush.

"Alright, enough of these bloody pranks!"

The bush didn't slow its trembling at his approach; in fact, it went from trembling to violent shaking. Noting the suddenly violent reaction, Vice hesitated a moment and picked up a rock before continuing to walk towards it. Raising the rock above his head, Vice swept some of the branches aside. The shaking stopped immediately and the parted branches revealed a fedora. Confused, Vice rummaged through the bush, moving different branches aside, but he didn't find anyone. Now completely befuddled, Vice lowered the rock and exchanged it for the fedora.

It was a plain silver-white thing - the only other color was the royal purple band around the crown of the hat - but it was in good condition. The suede material was unblemished and looked like it would go well with his white and navy attire.

Vice looked around once more for the hat's wearer, but he was the only person around. He looked back at the fedora, only then noticing that he had been turning it over and over in his hands as if it was his. He stilled his hands and stared at the fedora. He stared and stared and stared. All the sounds around him went silent, his only focus being the fedora. He slowly raised it to his head. Without knowing why, he felt compelled to wear it. It was important. It was imperative. He removed his aviator's cap.

The moment the fedora rested on his head, everything went black.

-:-

A loud knocking made Vice's eyes snap open. His hands gripped the arm rests of his chair. His eyes widened as he realized that his present surroundings were not the island. His eyes swept around the room.

He was in an office. The walls were papered with a dull green color and the floor was an even drabber brown checkered pattern. The walls were lined with bookshelves and filing cabinets, the latter had a small card - each with a different letter - on every drawer. An empty pin board was hung on the wall to his right, making that space the only part of the wall that didn't have a filing cabinet against it. Vice stood and touched the board, unable to believe what he saw. He looked at his arm, noticing that his clothing had changed too.

He realized that his dyed hide clothing had been replaced with a business suit. His undershirt was white, but his jacket and slacks were navy. Vice's hands went to his head and felt the brim of the fedora. He tugged at it, but it didn't budge. It was stuck to his head.

Vice turned back to his desk, impressed by how nice it looked, and rummaged through the drawers to try and find something to help remove the hat. The drawers were full of blank paper, different colored strings, pins, staplers, and extra pens - none of which would have been able to remove the hat - so Vice looked around for something else. When he looked behind him, he noticed a small bookshelf. Several upside-down shot glasses and a decanter of scotch immediately caught his attention.

"Oh, bloody yes." Vice breathed. He poured himself a generous portion when the knocking sounded again. Vice jumped, but recomposed himself. "Um…come in," he said hesitantly.

A woman entered the office and Vice slammed his glass of scotch to keep from staring. The woman wasn't scantily clothed, in fact, she was quite the opposite. Her brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she wore a business suit with a professional black skirt. However, the skirt accentuated the fact that her sharply legs seemed to go up to her elbows.

"Mr. Versius, sir? I'm sorry to disturb you, but a case just came in. Mr. Donnelly said to give it to you right away."

"Ah, yes...I'll...take this case...immediately." Vice stuttered.

The woman smiled politely and placed a vanilla folder on the desk.

"Thank you, Ms...um."

"Swanson." The woman provided, looking confused. "Your secretary, sir." She added.

"Ah, yes. I apologize, Ms. Swanson. I'm having a bit of a dead brain today."

The secretary smiled and turned to leave.

"Um, Ms. Swanson."

"Yes?" She turned.

"For how long have you been my secretary?"

She looked at him, oddly. "Three years now, sir."

"Ah, right...yes...three years...yes...ah...Thank you. That's, that's all I require." He said awkwardly.

Swanson nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Vice poured himself another glass of scotch and slammed it before sitting at his desk. He picked up the folder and opened it.

"Victim is Andrea Taylor." He read. "Found at six this morning by a neighbor. She was pronounced dead at the scene."

Vice's shoulders sagged and he sighed as he thumbed the brim of the fedora. "What have you gotten me into?"


	2. Chapter 1- Ring Around the Rosie

**Island Noire: Death at Dawn**

 **Chapter 1- Ring around the Rosie**

* * *

 _One surprise after another._ Vice mused. _Always something new._

In addition to not preparing him for his "profession", the fedora also failed to inform Vice that he had his own car –a sleek, blue and white Studebaker Commander - and a partner.

Andy Martin was a middle age man, looking no more than thirty, with a narrow face, high cheekbones, blue eyes, a strong chin, and a smile that could charm women from fifty yards. Overall, he could give James Cassidy a run for his money. He had explained, with some confusion, to Vice that he had been his partner for a little over five years. Vice, he had said, was one of the senior investigators and had been for the past ten years.

Andy, thankfully, drove to the crime scene. Not that Vice couldn't drive, he had had to learn in order to better observe some of the time periods he had seen, but after being on the island where only dinosaurs were "driven" his automotive skills were probably rusty at best.

Another thing the fedora had not prepared him for, but his partner had hinted at, was his popularity. Every officer and detective in the precinct seemed to know him and his "grand reputation." Even when Andy pulled up to the scene of the crime, officers would tip their hats and nod in respect, asking how he was and how soon he thought he would have this case "in the bag". Vice answered as good naturedly as he could, trying his hardest not to shout out to everyone "WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?!" Vice almost felt relieved when he finally got though the sea of reporters, crime scene tape, and line of officers, and saw the body. Nobody was around, save for a man who Vice could only assume was the corner, based on how he was meticulously examining the victim's body.

The coroner looked up and smiled politely when he saw them approaching.

"Detectives." He greeted.

Vice nodded and the coroner jumped right into his evaluation, not waiting for any return greeting or questions.

"Well, the woman fell from the balcony up there." He pointed. "But, this isn't being ruled as a suicide for two reasons." The coroner motioned for Vice to crouch next to him. "There's a bruise on her head, probably from a fist based on the size of the shiner, and this," He traced several blue-purple finger impressions that wrapped around the woman's throat, ignoring the diamond necklace. "Tells me she was strangled before she fell...or even thrown if I may assume, not to mention the necklace wasn't stolen either."

Vice digested the information, trying not to wince. The corner was touching the body without gloves on. 1940's coroners clearly didn't know about evidence contamination or sanitary codes.

"Were there any witnesses? Did any of the neighbors hear or see anything before Ms. Andrea Taylor here tried to follow Peter Pan?" Andy joked.

The coroner shrugged. "I just look at the bodies. If you want to know about living witnesses, talk to Bishop."

Andy gave a thumbs up, "I'll go talk with him then. You can go ahead and take a look around the place without me, Vice."

Vice nodded, once more feeling a sense of relief since he didn't have to attempt to figure out who "Bishop" was. He pointed to the marks on Andrea's neck. "Will you be able to tell me anything about these? Specifically which hand was used to strangle her?"

The coroner turned the woman's head from side to side, her neck made a cracking sound which made Vice wince. "Left. Your perpetrator was left handed."

Vice thanked the man and stood. The coroner got up with him and walked away.

"Everything in the house is as it was at the time of the incident, Detective. The boys and I didn't let any of those newsies even sniff the place." He called back, still walking and not stopping to wait for a reply.

Now alone, Vice looked at the house. It was a modest double story home with white walls and dark green trim. The french front doors were unlocked. Vice entered and admired the neat sitting room. It was entirely spotless. The huge bookshelves, the couch, the small television, and the rug didn't have a speck of dust on them. The adjoining room, the kitchen, was just as clean. The only "dirty" thing being a vase full of red roses.

Vice touched the petals, they were soft and smooth. They were fresh, new, and bought from Flora's Flowers as the tag around one of the roses read. Curious, Vice left the kitchen and ascended the stairs to the second floor. There were four rooms on the second floor. A guest room and the guest bathroom, a small library room, and the master bedroom. Out of all the rooms, however, only the master bedroom seemed to be messy. Vice stepped inside and scanned the entire room. The bed wasn't made and different clothing items were strewn about on the floor. The connected master bathroom was just as messy, drawers were open and toiletries were scattered around the counter. The only forms of organization was the dresser, lined with jewelry boxes and stands and the closed closet door.

 _Andrea must have been in a hurry...but why_?

Vice looked through one of the jewelry boxes, feeling slightly intrusive. Nothing immediately stood out. He picked up one of the diamond rings and moved to the light, inspected it, and squinted. He went back and picked up another diamond ring, inspecting it the same way; the diamonds were fake. Vice frowned and examined a small pearl necklace. Trying an old trick, he rubbed the pearl against his teeth lightly. The surface was smooth, not grainy. The pearls were fake as well.

"A house like this, a necklace like that, jewelry like this, and roses." Vice listed. "I have to be missing something here."

He turned to the unmade bed and tried not to grimace as he moved the sheets and comforter around. Nothing. He tried to put everything back just as it was, hoping he didn't accidentally mess up something that could have helped him. He backed away from the bed and went to look in the closet, but something caught his eye. He reached down, picked up a shinning square from the floor at the corner of the bed, and put the object in his palm.

 _A cuff link?_ Vice thought, astonished, but pleased. _A date gone wrong, perhaps?_

He put the cuff link on the bureau and moved to the closet. He opened it and found that most of the hangers had been stripped, some more forcefully than others as they had fallen to the floor. Vice looked further into the closet and noticed a suitcase in the back. He pulls it out and lays it on its side. Opening it, Vice noted how the clothes looked hastily thrown in and looked through the messy case. Dresses, socks...underthings...a crinkling sound? Vice pulled a slip of paper from between the folds of a calico dress.

"I will be the sun for you, my rose." He read. "I'll see you soon."

Vice left the suitcase on the floor and placed the note next to the cuff link. "Who were you seeing?"

"Vice!"

Vice jumped. "Yes?"

Andy appeared in the doorway, "I spoke with Bishop, there were two witnesses. It's a couple, actually, a Mr. and Mrs. Schultz. They were Andrea's neighbors."

"Lead on." Vice said.

He followed Andy out of the house, pulling an officer aside before they reached the couple. "Tell Evidence to grab the note and cuff link I found in the master bedroom."

The officer nodded and rushed off.

The couple Andy lead Vice to was a young one, the both of them probably no older than twenty-five. The wife looked nervous and her husband was holding her hand, their heads were bent in conversation.

"Vice, this is Diana and Kenneth Schultz. They were the ones who reported this." Andy introduced. Kenneth and Diana immediately stopped their conversation and looked up; Diana still looked nervous.

 _Well, at least my time on The Island improved my improvised conversational skills._ Vice mused.

"Hello to you both." He greeted. "Now, I'm just going to ask the both of you some standard questions. If you could answer them honestly, it would be a great help."

Diana looked to her husband and then back at Vice. "We'll try and answer as best we can, Detective." Her husband affirmed the same.

"How did you come to find Ms. Taylor?" Vice started. _Easy enough to answer. Should a least ease a bit of Mrs. Diana's tension._

"I'm the one who found Andrea." Diana answered. "I was out walking our dog, Lola, and I...I saw her lying on her driveway. At first I thought it was just strange, so I went to take a closer look...make sure she was okay. When I got closer...I saw her eyes just, just...staring...and..."

"And then what?" Vice pressed gently.

Kenneth wrapped his arm around her shoulder when she teared up and didn't continue. "Diana came running back to the house and she called the police. Then we waited in the house until the officers came." He finished for her.

Andy reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a hankie. He held it out to Diana and she took it gratefully.

"I'm sorry." She said in a near whisper. "This is just all so much..."

"No need to apologize." Vice comforted. "You are doing wonderfully. You saw something that would haunt even the bravest of souls."

Diana gave a small smile and leaned against her husband's side.

"Now, did either of you notice anything strange the day before you found Ms. Taylor?"

Diana thought a moment. "No...nothing comes to mind."

"Actually, I remember seeing something." Kenneth said. "Someone drove her home; a man. It was late and I was up watching T.V.; Diana had already gone to bed. Andrea normally takes the bus, she doesn't...didn't...have a car."

"Did they appear to be upset or aggressive towards each other?"

Kenneth shook his head. "No, opposite actually. They both looked real happy, gentleman was even holding flowers...roses, I think."

"Do you know what car it was? A license plate number, perhaps?"

"It was a white car. That's all I know. It was too dark to see the exact model or license plate. Sorry, Detective."

Vice shook his head. "Again, no need to apologize. Any information is good information."

Andy nodded in agreement. "Anything you give us helps, no matter what it is, even everyday routines are helpful."

"Speaking of which, do you know if Ms. Taylor was employed?" Vice asked. "Or, did she have a place she frequented?"

"She worked for Pierce Corporation. She was Damon Pierce's personal secretary." Diana said. "She and I had lunch when she got off work early. She seemed very happy with her position; said that the pay was better than any other job she had had in the past."

"Do you know the address, by chance?"

"Yes, it's 1986 Martivao Street. It's the tallest building on the block, you can't miss it." She said.

Vice nodded and smiled. "Thank you so much for your assistance Mr. And Mrs. Schultz."

Andy handed the couple a card. "If you remember anything else, you can always give us a ring."

Kenneth took it. "Will do, Detectives. I hope you find whoever did this. Andrea was a nice lady. I'm surprised anyone would ever do this to her."

With his arm still around her shoulder, Kenneth turned and walked back to their house. An officer at the tape escorted them pass the press who were still eagerly asking questions and taking photos.

Andy and Vice walked toward their car. The newsies quickly turned their attention from the silent couple to the two detectives, mobbing around them and screaming questions.

"Should the neighborhood worry about the murderer still being in the area?!"

"Detective?! How was Andrea Taylor murdered?!"

"This way, Detective! How long will- Who do you think- When will-" The voices all mixed together as the reporters pushed and shoved each other for a statement.

"At this point in time, we have no statements to give." Vice said, frustrated. _Can't these people have a little more respect? Even the Islanders had more respect...as shady as some of them where..._

However, just by saying that there was going to be no statement, the gaggle of reporters went into a frenzy, shouting their questions even louder and more fervently. One even went so far as to grab Vice by the shoulder. Vice pulled himself out of the reporters grip and prepared for conflict, but Andy saved him by pulling him into the car.

"Holy Hell!" He said, turning the key. The engine purred to life and he slowly maneuvered out of the sea of newsies. "For a second there, I thought I was going to have to break a few noses to get you outta there."

"Is the press always this tempestuous?"

Andy shook his head. "They get excited, but never this excited, but it's probably because that neighborhood has never had a murder before. Bishop told me that they've never even had a robbery. It was one of the safest neighborhoods around."

"That would make for a good story, I suppose."

Andy nodded and laughed. "You're not goin' senile on me, are you Vice? You've been asking me strange questions all day. Not to mention the fact that you haven't pulled that notebook of yours out of your breast pocket the entire time."

"My...notebook, right."Vice stumbled, quickly reaching into his breast pocket and finding the said notebook. "I think I'm getting too old for this." Vice said, hoping he sounded like he was joking.

If he hadn't, Andy gave no sign. He just flashed a smile and drove on. "We headed to Pierce Corp.?"

"That would probably be best." Vice said, scribbling notes into the notebook. Once he finished listing evidence and summarizing the information they had found out from the Schultz couple, Vice thumbed through the notebook. Countless pages had been filled from front to back with notes. All of them listing evidence, citing witnesses, listing suspects, or addresses, and every last word was written in his handwriting.

Vice sighed mentally. _I really am getting too old for this._


	3. Chapter 2- Liar, Liar

**Island Noire: Death at Dawn**

 **Chapter 2: Liar, Liar**

 _Well, Mrs. Schultz wasn't joking._ Vice thought, looking out the car window. _You really can't miss the Corporation building._

Pierce Corporations was an impressive fifteen stories high. Smooth walls, painted white, stood out from the rest of the smaller, more colorful buildings. Gold colored letters at the top of the building spelled out, in all capitals, PIERCE CORPORATION.

"As if anyone really couldn't tell." Andy quipped, parking the car right out front.

Vice chuckled, getting out of the vehicle. "Let's just hope that Mr. Pierce is here and can give us some useful information.

The pair walked up the short section of stairs, another thing that set the building apart from the more ordinary businesses around it, and went through the revolving glass door. Stepping into the lobby, Vice's eyes went wide.

Long windows, and the glass from the revolving door, let in a substantial amount of light, naturally illuminating the impressive interior. With its Greek-style pillars in each corner of the room, decorative paintings, French doors, and impressive white leather sofas with accenting mahogany coffee tables, one would have thought they had entered the lobby to heaven rather than a business. Vice's shoes clicked against the polished marble floor as he and Andy made their way to the front desk, a large mahogany counter with a white marble top. The stern older woman behind the desk looked up, her face impassive, even when he and Andy flashed their badges.

"Hello," Vice greeted, "I am detective Versius and this is my partner, Detective Martin. We need to ask Mr. Pierce a couple of questions."

"I'm sorry Detective; Mr. Pierce is in a very important business meeting at the moment." She glanced at Andy as he gave a small snort, "May I ask what this is about?"

"I'm afraid his secretary was found dead this morning. We were hoping that-"

"Oh my god, Andrea?" The receptionist gasped, her hand covering her mouth.

"You were acquainted with Ms. Taylor, Ms.?" Vice questioned, remembering to take his notebook out of his breast-pocket.

"Collin, Elizabeth Collin." She nodded, "And yes, I did know Andrea. She was a nice young lady, extremely polite and well-mannered."

Vice nodded, trying to look professional and cover up the fact that he was desperately looking for a pen. The receptionist deftly flicked her eyes to the cup of pens on the desk top not a foot from his hand.

Vice coughed and quickly took one of the pens before continuing, "Do you know if Ms. Taylor had any disputes or concern about any co-workers? I can imagine some people may be rather jealous of her position, giving that it payed much better than her old profession."

Ms. Collin snorted, "Any job here pays better than the nightshift at a twenty-four hour diner. I think even the janitors here make more a year; Mr. Pierce is a very generous man." She looked past the two detectives and sighed. "Her desk is on the top floor. While Mr. Pierce is unavailable, I can escort the both of you there. I'm sure the two of you would like to inspect her workspace."

"It would be greatly appreciated." Andy nodded.

Ms. Collin jot something down on a slip of paper and left it on the desk before escorting the two through the huge, white French doors –opened from the opposite side by two young men- and leading them through two rooms. Both full of people who sat bent over desks, taking phone calls, reading documents, or typing. They breezed through these rooms, however, and walked down a long hallway, stopping at an elevator.

The doors immediately opened when Ms. Collin pressed the button to call the elevator and, when they had all entered, she immediately pressed the button for the top floor – number fifteen.

"Andrea's desk is on the top floor, as I said, but it is right outside Mr. Pierce's office. Once Mr. Pierce is available, I will inform him to meet you here." Ms. Collin commented.

Thank you very much." Vice said, feeling slightly awkward.

The elevator ride was a short one and, just as she said, Ms. Collin escorted them right to Andrea's desk, despite it being in perfect view once the elevator doors opened.

"Just ring the front desk if you need any more assistance. The extension is twelve-forty-seven."

"Will do, ma'am. Thanks again." Andy nodded.

Ms. Collin turned and walked straight back towards the elevator. Andy watched as she left. As soon as the doors closed and the floor numbers flashed, showing that the elevator was descending, Andy turned to Vice.

"Ten dollars our vic. was banging the boss."

What?! Andy!" Vice sputtered.

"What?" His partner shrugged. "You heard the lady, Vice. Our Andrea Taylor was a nightshift waitress at a diner who managed to get a job _here_ , one of the biggest companies in the city. Unless she had some good references, I don't think she would have landed the job on credentials alone."

"Even so," Vice coughed, red-faced, as he quickly looking at a picture on the desk with sudden interest, "we shouldn't make obscene wagers over the deeds of the deceased."

Andy rifled through a drawer, smirking. "I think you're just worried you'll lose."

Vice didn't retort. He was focused on the picture, with actual interest. It was a simple photograph in a small picture frame; a snapshot of Andrea with two female friends at her side at what looked like a party. All of them were smiling and looking like they were enjoying themselves. Vice looked closer, however, and noticed a hand around Andrea's waist. The person whose hand it was wasn't visible.

Vice turned the frame over and unfastened the back. _Just as I thought_. The picture had been folded over.

He bent the folded part back into place, revealing a dark-haired young man standing beside her, his hand around her waist. _Who are you?_

"Excuse me!" A deep voice called. Vice and Andy looked up.

A young man, exiting the elevator, looked back that them. He was fairly tall, with short brown hair, and dressed in a smart-looking tuxedo. He walked straight-backed and confident, his face serious.

"Mr. Pierce, I assume?" Vice greeted.

The young man nodded. "Yes, I'm Damian Pierce. Is what Elizabeth told me true? Did Andrea…was she…?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Pierce." Vice confirmed. "We were wondering if you could answer a few questions."

Damian's shoulders seemed to slump a little, his head going down slightly. "Yes, of course I can…in my office, if you please."

He didn't wait for the detectives' confirmation. He simply turned and walked past the two detectives to open the doors to his office and sat in the chair behind his desk. Vice and Andy followed him in and took their seats in front of him.

Damian folded his hands on the table, "What find of questions do you have for me?"

"Can you tell us about Ms. Taylor; what her work hours were, which co-workers she is close to, or which co-workers she disliked." Andy prompted. Vice pulled out his notebook.

Damian leaned back in his chair, pensively. "Andrea worked here from eight-thirty in the morning to about three in the afternoon, sometimes she would stay later if the day was busy."

`"How late?" Andy asked.

"She would stay as late as seven. She was payed overtime of course." Damian answered. "She's worked here for a little over a year now."

Vice scribbled notes as he continued.

"Andrea was well liked, though. I can't think of any of my immediate staff who disliked her or would be willing to kill her."

Vice looked up, "And what about yourself, Mr. Pierce, your opinion of Ms. Taylor?"

Damian gave a small smile, "She was probably the best secretary I've had." His eyes glazed a bit and seemed to look past the two detectives, "Always kept me on top of my schedule and always let me know at least an hour ahead of time when my next meeting was. She was exceptional at keeping track of multiple things at once."

Andy gave a small cough. "Do you credit that to her previous job?"

Damian's eyes suddenly cleared and focused on Andy as he cocked an eyebrow. "If you were referring to her job as a waitress that would probably make the most sense. I don't base hire solely on the previous employment."

"She was one of the prettier applicants though, no?" Andy pushed.

Damian leaned forward, his eyes hardening. "She was attractive, yes, but I hired her because she had more heart. She was young, had dreams of traveling, and was willing to take a risk with the interview."

He sat back slowly, blinking and then clearing his throat.

"I prefer my staff to have some zest, prevents the offices from being dull workplaces, decent conversation and all."

Andy smiled as if he had meant nothing by the question. "Of course."

Vice wrote a few more notes before placing Andrea's photo on the desk. "Do you know who this man is?"

Damian took the picture and studied it for a moment. Vice noticed his eyes narrow and his calm expression change into one of anger for a split second before he placed it on the desk and slid it back towards him. "No, never."

Vice slowly slid the photo back, "I implore you to look again. The identity of this man could be crucial to the case….not to mention it is a very serious crime to impede an investigation because of…personal feelings."

Damian stared at Vice for a moment, calculating, but he took the picture and studied it again.

"As far as I know, it was a boyfriend of hers." He finally sighed. "She broke up with him soon after I hired her. She tried not to show it, but everyone could tell she was very torn up about it."

"Can you recall his name, by any chance?"

"Jared Hewitt." Damian said, handing the picture over.

Vice accepted it and tucked it away into his pocket. "And your whereabouts yesterday, Mr. Pierce? Can you tell us where you were between the times of ten thirty and one in the morning yesterday?"

"I was working here late. I left at around nine and went to the bar with some friends of mine."

"Can these friends confirm this?" Andy asked.

"Damian chuckled, "I'm afraid not. The two I was with drank like fish and the bartender that night had a heavy pour. I don't think they would even be able to have a whispered conversation with you two. I did call my wife during the night, however. With all the noise they were making, she would be able to confirm my story. As for coming home, I was in bed at three this morning."

Andy opened his mouth to say something, probably a jab half disguised as a joke, but a loud buzz from a black device interrupted him. " _Mr. Pierce? Your one o'clock meeting will be starting in about ten minutes."_

Damian's lip thinned, but he pressed a button on the device. "Thank you, I'll be right there."

He released the button, muttering to himself. "Andrea would have told me as soon as I got back up to the office….But!" He clapped as he stood, moving to the door to show the detectives out. "It will just take some getting used to. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me."

The two detectives stood and let themselves be shown out, but Andy stopped at the door. "Your address, Mr. Pierce? We would like to confirm your story with your wife, if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course, I don't mind at all." Damian answered. "It's 91 Orchard Street. About half an hour drive if you manage to hit all the lights, twenty if you don't."

"Thank you very much." Andy smiled as Damian closed the door and walked down the hall to Vice's side.

The two said nothing. It wasn't until they were halfway to the car that Andy's smile widened as he elbowed Vice.

"He was totally banging her."

He laughed and quickly walked to the car, a red-faced Vice sputtering after him.

"You….you can't just go….assuming that sort of thing!"

"I'm not "assuming" Vice. Come on! The man practically admitted it!"

"I just don't think-"

Andy shook his head, starting the car. "Vice, he got aaaall moon-eyed at the mention of the dame's name, not to mention that cock and bull "alibi" he gave us."

"Anyone would be more than upset if they found out someone they worked with had been murdered….or killed…in any fashion….wouldn't have mattered if they were together or not. As for the alibi, we shouldn't assume. We need to go with what evidence tells us."

"Yeah, but this guy's eyes…the lights went out in 'em for a second. Sure he-" Andy paused, looking at Vice. "Are you alright? Now _you've_ got that look…."

"No, no…I'm quite alright." Vice said.

"You sure? Never seen you go moon-eyed before….some dame on _your_ mind?"

Vice shook his head. "No, no…was… was just remembering something…Having a senior moment."

"Alrighty, if you say so." Andy chuckled lightly. "Well, should be at the Pierce residence is about twenty minutes, let's hope the lights don't make us wait."

-:-

Despite having, Vice supposed, perhaps upward of a million dollars at his disposal, Pierce had a surprisingly modest house. Granted it was in an extremely wealthy neighborhood, but the Pierce household looked fairly ordinary.

The front lawn was small. The grass was all green, not a brown or bare spot to be seen, and flowers that were in full bloom lined the brick walkway to the front door of a two-story home. Vice looked down at the flowers and the tidy lawn as he and Andy made their way to the front door.

"I'm honestly surprised." Andy said.

Vice looked up at him. "Surprised? Well…I suppose the path would have been better lined with Violets or some nice Begonias, but I think these daisies are a simple but lovely touch."

"I was talking about the fact that this place wasn't what I expected it to be. I was expecting the house to look like one of those mansions right down the street. Now I am more surprised that you are actually critiquing and naming flowers." Andy laughed, knocking on the front door, taking care to mind the stained glass design.

"There is nothing wrong with knowing a little about the common flora. Did you-"

A loud crash and a woman's scream from inside the house cut him off. Vice barely had any time to think before Andy pulled a handgun from his hip and had attempted to open the door, only to find that it was locked. Andy elbowed the door's center, shattering the colored glass he had taken care to avoid moments before.

Andy stuck his arm through the hole, avoiding the remaining jagged pieces of glass that clung to their frame and flipped the lock. The two rushed inside, just in time to see a man push away from a woman.

"I'll get him! You stay with the lady!" Andy yelled, disappearing down the hall after the fleeing man.

The woman was yelling in French, looking furiously down the hall.

"Mrs. Pierce? Mrs. Pierce, are you alright? Are you hurt?" Vice asked firmly, trying not to yell over her or seem panicked. He extended his hands out to hers to get her attention.

The woman turned her furious gaze into him and slapped his hands away. "Let go of moi, you fool!" She snarled, her French accent heavy. "'ow dare you barge into my 'ome and break my window!"

"But the noise…the scream? Surely there-"

Mrs. Pierce scoffed, "Ee't waz nothing."

"But you screamed…and that burglar shoved you…"

"Burglar?" Mrs. Pierce laughed, airily. "My 'usband 'as an alarm system zat moi could turn on at any time. 'E worries too much."

Vice sighed and rubbed his temples. "Well…who was that man then? And, tell me, where was your husband last night? Did he call you and tell you he was going to come home late?"

Mrs. Pierce looked at him. "Did my 'usband tell you 'e was at ze bar?"

When Vice nodded, she laughed again. "Of course, zat is wat 'e told you. Well, 'e waz 'ome late. But 'e was never at ze bar."

"Where was he?" Vice pressed.

Mrs. Pierce smiled knowingly. "'E waz wiz 'is American 'ore of course."

Vice's eyes widened, "Do you me-"

"I got him, Vice!"

Vice turned as Andy pushed a young man into the room. As he stumbled, Mrs. Pierce cried out, and rushed to his side side, murmuring softly in French.

Vice's flicked from the young man to Andy, shocked.

 _Holy Shit…_


End file.
